


Teeth Ready for Sinking

by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions)



Series: Ten Years On [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Gen, Shiro (Voltron)-centric, Ten Years Later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-03 21:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10975878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticReactions/pseuds/BossToaster
Summary: Since waking up ten years in the future, Shiro hasn't been able to bring himself to get back in the Black Lion.The rest of the team is there to offer advice and help.





	1. Chapter 1

The alarms blared.

Shiro jolted, surprised by the sound.  It was slightly different from the one he was used to in tone, like they’d changed out some of the parts or maybe the speaker system.

“Paladins, to your lions!” Allura’s voice called, familiar and loud.  Very loud.

“That’s our cue,” Lance announced, hopping up to his feet and abandoning their game of go fish.  “Coming along?”  He didn’t wait for an answer, already jogging down the hall.

Shiro stared after, then sprinted to catch up.  “Do you know what the problem is?”

“No more than you do,” Lance replied easily.  “We’re in pirate territory though, so I’m willing to bet that we got a distress signal from somebody being tailed by scavengers.”  He turned and eyed Shiro, grin widening.  “Wanna take that bet?”

One look at Lance’s confident smirk made Shiro shake his head.  “I’d rather not.”

“Against betting?”

“I’m against  _ losing.” _

Lance chuckled at that, eyes crinkling.  It made the deep scar that curved around his eye waver like waves.  “Fair enough.  Me too.  Ah, well, a guy can hope.”

They stepped into the deployment room, and Shiro suddenly paused.

Wait.

He was going to have to get  _ in _ the Black Lion.  For the first time since he’d stepped out, a decade later.

How did Shiro know that wasn’t going to happen again?

Panic gripped him hard, and he put out a hand to steady himself, even as Pidge, Keith and Hunk piled into the room as well.

Seeing Shiro, Keith paused, probably in surprise, then in open concern.  “You okay?”

“I haven’t-” Shiro cut himself off, physically biting his tongue.  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“He hasn’t been in the Black Lion since he got back,” Lance replied, voice utterly flat.  Shiro shot him a glare, but Lance shrugged it off.  “Probably best we take care of this one ourselves.”

Shiro glanced at him, and at everyone else as they got ready to take their ziplines to the lions.  “What if you need to form Voltron?”

“We’ve kind of been doing that fine on our own.  Which lion are you taking, Keith?” Pidge glanced over at him, brows up.

Keith shrugged and gestured down at his armor.  “Red.  Allura can grab Black if we need it.  Or Shiro.”  It was an afterthought, nearly tentative, and he glanced back at him.  “If you want.”

Shiro did.

But he was  _ terrified _ to.

Shiro couldn’t wake up and find ten years had passed again.  He’d break.  This was already the edge of what he could take.

“We’ve got this,” Lance replied, letting go of his zipline to ruffle his hair.  Shiro started at the touch, shocked at the gesture, and he grinned back easily.

Hunk glanced at all of them.  “We’ll really be okay, Shiro, we’ve been doing this for a long time.  But we’ve also got to go.  Like, now.”

Right.  Taking a step back, Shiro nodded to them.  “Alright.  I’ll stay in the control room, then.”

He got a series of waves as they all headed off, and Shiro took a moment to appreciate how  _ absurd _ the zip line system looked from the outside.

But that just drove home that he was, in fact, an outsider now.

That rolling around in his head, Shiro turned mechanically and walked to the control room.

He knew the lion.  Loved Black, even.  How could they scare him so much?

This was something Shiro needed to think about.

***

It turned out that Lance was right on the money, as the Castle of Lions had responded to a distress call from a fleet of merchant ships.  When they arrived, the scavengers pulled off the ships, letting them begin to flee, and started to fire on the four lions in sheer panic.

It also turned out that Shiro was  _ terrible _ at not being in the lions with them.

“Bank, bank!” He muttered, meaning it to be under his breath, but not quite managing.  On Allura’s screens, the Green lion veered to the side, easily avoiding the cannon blast.  In response there was a flash of light. Vines broke violently out of the hull and began to tear the ship apart.

Sighing, Pidge gazed into her console’s camera, expression flat.  “Shiro, we’re really glad to have you back, but if you don’t stop backseat driving I’ll drive the Green Lion straight into the castle, I swear.”

Shiro winced.  “Sorry,” he muttered.  They were right.  They were all skilled pilots by now, bolstered by a decade’s worth of bonding and flying their lions.  It wasn’t like they didn’t know what they were doing, or they were raw recruits.

But they did cut it a little close for Shiro’s tastes.  Even though he’d done far worse.

“Good luck,” Keith muttered, and there was a hint of a laugh to his tone.  He cut through one of the pirate ships almost casually, and some the rest seemed to decide that they didn’t have a chance in hell against Voltron.  On screen, Shiro could see the energy signatures jump as they got ready to flee.  “Shiro’s always been like this.”

Lance snorted loudly.  “You have absolutely no room to talk, Firebrand.”

“Seconded,” Hunk added.  “You’re the worst to fly with.”

There was a hint of mischief to Keith’s answering smile.  “Not anymore. This is nice, actually.  I like not being the worst anymore.”

Shiro let out a huff, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “Glad to be of ser- Lance, your left!”

“I’ve got it,” Lance replied, his tone much less amused as he formed his sonic cannon and blasted a stubbornly attacking ship out of the black.  “A little faith in my abilities.”

“Sorry.”  Shiro shifted from foot to foot, anxiety keeping his energy up too high to contain.

Normally, he could manage it better.  Even in the field he didn’t try to micromanage like this.

But when he was fighting with his team (or, when he had been before) Shiro was always doing something.

Now he was  _ useless. _  Shiro couldn’t fly the ship, couldn’t monitor, couldn’t do what Allura and Coran normally covered.  Sure, there were little things, like the tiny drone fighters they could use in a pinch, but that wasn’t the same, and they weren’t useful at all right now.

So he didn’t know what to do with himself.

Allura hailed the merchant ships and started to speak with them, all easy, comfortable diplomacy.  Shiro should be helping, except Allura was talking about the emblems and how they were part of some group that Voltron had been defending already and Shiro didn’t  _ know _ any of that.

Useless, useless, useless.

He started to slink away, tension making his muscles ache and protest, but a hand came down on his shoulder.  Shiro started, biting off a yelp.  But it was just Coran beside him, so he took a deep breath.

“Take a walk with me, Shiro,” Coran said.  It was phrased like an order, but the tilt of his head and the look in his eyes was soft.

Nodding, Shiro took a deep breath.  “Alright. Where are we going?”

“Engine room.”

***

They walked in silence, and Shiro tapped his natural fingers against his bicep the whole walk.  But Coran didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry to start the conversation, and Shiro didn’t really know what he wanted.

So he waited.

Stepping into the room, Coran pulled off his work belt and set it down in front of the main control panel.  Then he sat in front of it with a quiet groan and pulled it open.  Glancing back, Coran patted the spot next to him, brows up in question - ‘what are you waiting for?’

Shiro didn’t have an answer, so he sat where he was directed.

“You see this?” Coran asked, pointing to a series of tangled wires that came together in the center pole.  “These cords feed from the main power generator to the relay that feeds back information from Allura’s console.  Important, but the padding on them has started to wear with age, so they get loose often.  Usually just pushing them back into place will do it, but if Allura’s commands start to lag, this is the likely culprit.”

Shiro stared at Coran, then back at the cords.  “Okay,” he replied, drawing out the word.  What had brought this on?

Coran nodded, as if Shiro was absolutely caught up.  “Excellent.  Now, they plug in here, and this is the battery where the power is stored and converted from the crystal quintessence.  That overheats once in awhile, and to get into it you need one of these.”  He pulled out something that looked like a triangular wrench.  “Attach it here and pull up.  It’ll deactivate the magnetic hold keeping the shell in place.”

Rather than watch what Coran was showing him, Shiro stared at his face.  There was a serenity to Coran when he was working on mechanics that he didn’t seem to have the rest of the time.  Or maybe that was the extra decade - they all seemed less stressed, overall.

Shiro had spent most of this week back reconnecting with Sam and Matt or his team.  Most of the time he’d shared with Allura had been purely business, catching him up on ten years worth of missions.

Almost none of it had been spent with Coran.

That wasn’t very well done of him, was it?

But that still didn’t explain what was going on here.

Coran finally looked over, brows up and head tilted.  “Something confusing you?”

“Not about this,” Shiro replied.  “About... you seemed to have a purpose in bringing me here.  Was it just to walk me through these mechanics?”

Putting his tools back in his lap, Coran considered him.  “You don’t take well to stillness, do you, Shiro?”

Direct hit.  Shiro’s shoulders tightened.  “No, not at all,” he agreed, trying to keep his voice light instead of defensive.  “Never had.  I always filled my schedule to the brim on Earth.  The trip to Kerberos nearly drove me wild.”

Coran’s mustache twitched as he smiled.  “I understand.  I was much the same way when I was your age.  You want to do everything and be everywhere and experience everything all the time.”  Then his eyes got sly.  “And it means you don’t get left behind to worry.”

Wincing, Shiro looked away.  “True.”  He took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax.  Coran wasn’t saying anything that wasn’t obviously true.  And he was perhaps the only person who could get away with ‘when I was your age’ right now.  Lance was already fond of the phrase.  It was annoying. Very annoying.

“Well, then, the answer isn’t to tell you to get over it,” Coran replied.  “It’s to give you more to do.  I’ve heard from Samuel what you all used to do on your little ship to that moon.  Very primitive stuff, but you can at least handle what I’m showing you.”

The wording was so damn  _ Coran _ that Shiro found himself smiling.  “Thanks.  I appreciate you dumbing it down for me, then.”  His smile grew at Coran’s chuckle.  “You think I should be doing this?  Not getting used to the Black Lion?”

Coran gave him a flat look. “That’s not my decision to make, is it?  If you want to go back to piloting the Black Lion and working with the others, by all means.  I encourage you.  Shuffling Allura back and forth is a bother for us all, I assure you.  But you can also choose not to continue. No one would blame you for that.  We still have no idea how the Black Lion sent you forward in time like that, and we aren’t likely to have answers for a good while yet.  No one wants to see you hurt again.”

Simple as that.

Somehow, the idea that Shiro didn’t  _ have _ to be a paladin anymore was...

It was boggling.  He hadn’t thought he’d have the choice.  He’d be the Black Paladin until he died.

Then again, Shiro had thought his time left could be pointed down to months, maybe even weeks.  Not years.  Not over a decade.  Not past the threat of Zarkon and Haggar and all those terrible figures who had made Shiro so small and helpless in their empire.

“So, helping with the tech... it’s an option,” Shiro replied thoughtfully.

Coran nodded.  “And something to do other than... how did they put it?  ‘Back seat drive?’  I don’t understand, you were standing with Allura and myself.”

“There are automobiles - like small ships on wheels - on Earth.  They tend to have two sets of seats, one up front for the driver and a passenger, and two in the back.  People who offer advice from the back seat aren’t widely appreciated.”

Making a quiet, interested noise, Coran handed over the tool.  “Show me how to remove the shell.  And you were that sort?”

“Am that sort,” Shiro replied.  “And Keith knows it better than anyone.  I helped teach him how to fly.”  Shiro slotted the little triangle shaped hole over the appropriate tab and yanked up.  It took more strength than he’d thought it would, but then the heavy metal casing lifted off, and Shiro could pull it away and set it down.  “Now what?”

“Now we re-attach the charging relays.”

Coran walked Shiro through a series of basic maintenance tasks, trading stories back and forth the whole time.  They were light tales, like sneaking Keith around the desert, or about Allura learning her formal dance steps.

Soon, Shiro’s head was swimming with new words and ideas, and he had to hold up a hand.  “I might have enough for the moment.”

Coran clapped his hands together.  “Yes, that’s probably plenty for one afternoon.  Give your human synapses a chance to cool down.” When Shiro shot him a flat look, Coran only grinned back, no doubt completely aware how wrong he was about human anatomy.  “Feeling better?”

If nothing else, Shiro was thoroughly distracted.  “Yes,” he replied, smile warm.  “I really do appreciate you taking the time to work me through this.”

“Not at all,” Coran replied, flapping a hand at him.  “I would do this for anyone who might end up grounded.  You’re no less important for this team for being gone so long, you know.”

Shiro nodded slowly, not believing that.  It was a nice thought, but his role was...

It was filled in, like a hole in the beach.  The sand rolled back down until it was like those missing grains had never been there.

That was a good thing.  The alternative - that they’d been aching and needing him, missing a puzzle piece they couldn’t find for ten years - was so much worse.

It still stung.

“Thank you anyway,” Shiro replied.  He pushed himself up to his feet and brushed his pants back into place.  “I’ll leave you be.  I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Too busy for swapping stories?  Nonsense.”  Coran glanced at Shiro like he’d said something treacherous. 

Shiro smiled back, amused.  “My mistake.  Have a good afternoon, Coran.”

“You as well.”

With a last wave, Shiro wandered out, head feeling full both from what he’d learned and a new direction for his thoughts.

***

Shiro groaned as he was thrown onto his back on the mats.  Keith looked down at him, nearly unruffled and still bouncing on the balls of his feet.

On one hand, Shiro was proud they’d come so far in the past ten years.  Keith was strong, sturdy and incredibly fast, and now he knew how to use that to devastating effect.

On the other, Shiro hated to lose.  A lot.

He’d spent a lot of time this afternoon on his back instead of trading blows.

“Need a break?” Keith asked, head tilted.  He probably meant the question to be honest, but right now Shiro only found it annoying.

Just for the sake of his pride, Shiro pushed his hips and shoulders off the mat and kicked up and out, until he had enough momentum and strength to land on the tips of his toes.  He stood smoothly and pushed his hair out of his face.  “I’m fine.”

Keith stared back, openly amused.  “Very impressive,” he drawled.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Slowly, Keith’s eyes brightened and warmed.  “You know, you don’t have to be so dramatic all the time.”

It was a common complaint of Keith’s back in the Garrison days, and Shiro beamed back and answered with his stock response.  “I’m not following.”

Laughing, Keith walked over to the wall and grabbed two of the water packets, throwing one to Shiro.  “Take a break, Shiro.  And now you know how annoying your chirpy advice was when you used to pin me all the time.”

“I always knew,” Shiro replied.  “Why do you think I did it in that tone?”  But Keith had a point.  It was for his own good, and now Keith was the more experienced party.  It only made sense that Shiro was going to have to play catch-up.

He just hated it.

Sitting down against the wall, Shiro sipped at the water.  “Honest assessment,” he finally called, watching Keith carefully.  “How far behind am I?”

“In hand to hand?”  Keith sat down as well, considering him.  “Not as far as I thought you were.  It’s hard to tell since we can’t go all out.  I’ll have to get you to go against the training bots when I’m more comfortable with where you are.  But a few years?  You’ve got bulk and your arm on your side, at least.”

Years.   _ Years _ behind.

Shiro had known the answer before he asked, it still made his stomach twist.

“And I’m even further behind in being a paladin,” he admitted.  “I’d just used the bayard for the first time.”

Keith sighed.  “Well, yes.  You’re behind.  But that doesn’t make you bad at it or anything.  You know that, right?”

Grimacing, Shiro shrugged.  It felt like it did.  Last place.  Of them, Shiro was the  _ worst _ at this.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been last at something.

So rather than answer, Shiro asked another question.  “Coran said... well.  There’s other things I could do around here.  I’m trying to figure out what.  I’m not really a mechanic, and there are more people around but I don’t really know what positions we still need.”

There was a stunned silence, and Shiro looked over to see Keith staring, brow furrowed.  “You- Huh.”

“‘Huh’ what?”

Keith leaned the back of his head against the wall.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you back down from something because you were scared.”

Immediately, Shiro bristled and pushed himself up.  He clenched the packet tight enough that water started to dribble out, and he had to hastily relax his grip.  “It’s not about that.  It’s that I don’t want to be someone you have to  _ babysit _ in the field.”

Keith gave him a look like Shiro had started to speak another language halfway through.  “You’re not- no one’s babysitting anyone.  You’re catching up, yeah, but... Shiro, I still trust you with my back.  Completely.  I’ve seen what you can do, and you’re still the person I want fighting with me.”

The words hit like a slap.

Shiro ducked his head, eyes closed.  “Please don’t just be saying that.”

“Um, hey, remember who you’re talking to?  It’s Keith.  I don’t do that.”

Smiling thinly, Shiro nodded, his eyes still closed.  “Yeah.  Okay.  You have a point.  You really- even like this?”

Keith let out a snort.  “Like what?  Shiro, you were a hell of a paladin back when none of us knew what we were doing.  Once you get into it again?  You’re going to be great.”

“But what if I didn’t?” Shiro replied softly.  “What if I said no?  I didn’t even think about it till today but.. You’re right, Keith.  I froze up.  I was scared.”

When he finally looked over, Keith gaze was softly.  “Yeah, you have a pretty good reason for it.  We’re trying to get in contact with Slav to figure out what happened, but he’s a hard guy to get to sit down and chat.”

Unable to help it, Shiro made a face.  “You don’t have to do that.  Really.”

Keith paused, then snorted.  “Right, your thing with him.  You’ll adjust.  You’ve smiled and charmed instructors way more annoying.”

Fair enough.  Shiro shrugged and didn’t otherwise answer.  

Sighing, Keith leaned back against the wall again, splaying his legs out in front of him.  “Well, regardless of why, if you decide it’s not worth it to be the Black Paladin anymore, then sure.  We’ll find you something to do in the castle.  I promise there’s plenty.  Hell, we were talking recently about what a pain it is to use the lions or the castle for little things like dropping supplies off or sending messages.  We could get a small ship for that and that can be one of the things you do.  Be a regular pilot again.”

That was... not the worst idea Shiro had ever heard.

But it felt empty.  It tasted like failure.

That said more about Shiro than the job.

“In the end, what we care about is you being comfortable.  You deserve the chance to make that choice.”  Keith sighed and looked over.  “When we started this, there wasn’t a chance to think about it.  There were us five or else no Voltron, and we had to start now or else the Galra would finish taking over the whole universe.  But since then?  We’ve all had chances to stop.  We went back to Earth and they saw their families.  Pidge could always stay on as an inventor and work with her family.  Lance could have stayed on Earth.  Hunk could be an engineer.  I could... I dunno, something.”  Keith shrugged.  “We all got the choice.  We all chose to keep going.  Now it’s your turn.  And if you decide not to, you should get that choice.  Shiro, you of all people have earned the right to make this call for yourself.”

Shiro’s breath caught and he closed his eyes again.  “Um.  Thank you.”

“It’s just true,” Keith replied, shrugging.  “It’s your turn.  And I want you to pick what’ll make you happy, and if that means flying and not fighting, I’ll make sure that happens.  But I will say that... well, it’d mean you’d have to sit on the sidelines like today.  Do you really want that?”

No, he didn’t.

But Shiro wanted to be sent ten years forward again even less.

...Shit.  Keith was right.  He was doing this because he was scared.  That  _ sucked. _

“I’ll think about it,” Shiro replied instead, finishing off the last of the packet.  “In the meantime, I have to pin you at least once today or else I’m going to assume I stepped into an alternate universe instead of a different timeline.”

Keith snorted and pushed himself up.  “Arrogant.  Let’s see you back that up.”

Shooting a smile back, Shiro lost himself in the spar, letting it clear away the crowding thoughts.

For now.


	2. Chapter 2

A hand settled on Shiro’s shoulder, making him start.  “You okay there?”

Shiro jumped and spun around, arm up defensively.  

Holding up his hands, Lance took a step back.  “Sorry,” he replied, tone surprisingly easy for having Shiro’s metal arm pointed at his face.  “I thought you heard me.  Lost in thought?”

"Oh."  Shiro dropped his arm and frowned at Lance, then sighed.  "A little bit, yes."

"I can imagine," Lance replied.  He looked past Shiro, his brows up.

The Black Lion loomed.

Shiro followed his gaze, tense and defensive.  There wasn't a reason for it.  Lance wasn't going to give him shit for being here.  

It was just something he wanted to deal with on his own.  After all, it was Shiro's problem, and he didn't need extra eyes watching him waver and talk himself down.

A thought struck and Shiro glanced over.  "Have you ever flown the Black Lion?"

Lance glanced over.  "Me?  Eh.  Nah.  I never really wanted to.  I only flew Yellow in a pinch, and just sat in Green to prove everyone could do it.  Blue and I are tight."  But then Lance met Shiro’s eyes, expression softening.  For a moment he seemed to struggle with himself, but he spoke before Shiro could.  "I was scared.  Especially in the beginning.  It was bad enough that Keith and Allura could do it.  I didn't want to know for sure I couldn't.  Just another way to lose."

Shiro stared at him, lips pulled down.  "What?  Lance, no.  It's not losing to be the kind of person you are.  I can't say for certain either way, but you're worthy."

"Yeah."  Lance took a deep breath.  "I don't know about that.  Not everyone's a leader.  And there was a time when- well.  I gave myself some thought.  And I didn't like that I was making the other lions less because they weren't the head, you know?  Leadership isn't, like, something everyone should be fighting over, and if you don’t come out on top then you suck.  I like our system, and I don't want to make it about that.  But that's how I was thinking then.  That it was all or nothing, win or lose, everything else is a mark against me."

Shiro continued to stare, then sighed.  "I didn't see that.  I'm sorry.  I could have helped."

"I never told you," Lance pointed out.  "We were all so damn busy back then, too.  When were you supposed to know?  And you did help.  You encouraged what I was good at, like sharpshooting.  I just wanted to be better than Keith at Keith's strong suits."

Shiro's heart clenched and he knocked his shoulder into Lance's.  "I think you make a hell of a Lance.  I'm glad you came to that conclusion too."

Something vulnerable flashed over Lance's eyes, but it was covered with a smile after.  "Thanks.  I do make a fantastic me, huh?"  He raised one arm, flexing the muscle.  "And I filled out well, right?"

It was a distraction, but Shiro let him get away with it and chuckled.  "You did.  Did your lines improve, too?"

Lance put a hand over his chest plate.  "My lines were always excellent.  You shut your mouth, Shiro."

"Apologies."  Shiro shook his head and stayed against Lance's side, eyes back on the Black Lion.  "Do you still want to try?"

"Honestly?  No.  I don't want to give myself a chance to think that way again.  Besides, like I said, Blue and I are tight.  I try not to fly any other lion unless something comes up."

Shiro could understand that.  He didn't know how the rest of them were able to switch up.  It sounded uncomfortable.

Silence hung between them, steady but comfortable.  Eventually, Lance knocked Shiro's shoulder back.  "You going to give it a shot?"

If Lance hadn't just opened himself up, Shiro would have lied.  Claimed he was just sticking his head in and got distracted, or that he was going to rearrange all the tools back into how they should be ordered, thank you very much.

But Lance had trusted him, and Shiro should return the favor.

"I was," he replied, voice quiet.  "But I can't- I can't."  He swallowed hard.  "I need to get over it.  I know everyone's saying I could do something else if I don't want to be a paladin, but..."

"Except you do want to be a paladin," Lance replied gently.  "I get it.  I don't know what else I'd be, either.  Maybe a cargo pilot."  He flashed a grin and Shiro thought he was supposed to get the joke, but he just stared.  "Oh.  I only got out of the cargo pilot stuff at the Garrison because Keith left the program."

Shiro let out a gust of air and nodded.  "Right.  I did know that.  Sorry, I assumed it was from after.  There are a lot of those."

Wincing, Lance sighed.  "Yeah, I guess there would be.  Regardless, yeah, I understand.  It feels right, you know?  Like everything we were building up for was to this.  Like it was destiny."

Shiro couldn't help a soft smile, watching Lance's eager eyes as he stared at the Black Lion. "I don't know about that, but you're right that it feels like the best thing to do.  I don't think there's anything that'd make me happier."  Was Shiro going to sit on the sidelines and watch everyone else fight?  Was he going to pretend this wasn't his battle anymore?  Was he going to let his team go on and wish them good luck, thanks for the fun?

No way.

"But to be a paladin, I need to fly a lion," Shiro said.  "And I've been staring at Black for ten minutes now and haven't convinced myself to take another step.  I can't make this adjustment again.  I'm barely managing now.  Another ten years is too much.  What if you aren't all...?"

Lance closed his eyes, then reached out and pulled Shiro into a one-armed hug.  "Don't force yourself."

Shiro shook his head, but didn't shake off Lance's arm.  "I have to!  I can't not be a paladin, and I can't be a paladin without a lion, and Keith was right.  I'm scared.  I want to hide from this.  And that's not what I do.  I'm an astronaut and a pilot, fear was always a  _ rush. _  So why now...?"

Pulling him in tighter, Lance pressed his forehead to Shiro's temple.  "Hey, it's okay.  You have time, Shiro.  You can work your way up to it."  Then he paused.  "You know, maybe there's a different option."

Shiro tensed, afraid of whatever it might be.  Anything that didn't involve being a paladin tasted wrong on his tongue.  But he trusted Lance enough to hear him out.  "What?"

"Why does it need to be this lion?"

The question made Shiro freeze.  "I'm the Black Paladin," he replied carefully, before he'd thought it through.

Lance only snorted and loosened his grip.  "I'm not less of a Blue Paladin for having piloted Yellow," he pointed out.  "Speaking of, Yellow might be just what you need.  Why don't you talk to Hunk?"

"But-" Shiro cut himself off, not sure what his objection was.

It felt weird, that was all.

Lance's eyes ran over Shiro's face, quietly amused.  "Well, just talk to Hunk.  You don't have to do it if it's worse.  No one has to fly any of the lions that they don't want to.  But it's worth a shot, isn't it?  And that way you can get back into the feel of it without the fear of being lost again."

Really, it was a good idea.  One that Shiro should have thought of earlier.  It just hadn't clicked that he could switch lions, too.

"How do you know Yellow will fly for me?"  He asked carefully.

Lance rolled his eyes.  "Yellow likes people willing to put themselves on the line to help others.  Hunk's our man, but if that's not you, I give up."

"And you."

"Yeah, me too, mostly because I'm impulsive and I jump in the way of stuff rather than think of a third option," Lance replied easily.  "It's why Pidge isn't a good Yellow candidate.  She'd figure out a way to save everyone."

Shiro smiled back.  "That's true.  But it's also because you care."

That made Lance pause, and he glanced over.  He wasn't smiling, but his eyes were warm.  "Maybe.  Thanks."

"It's the truth," Shiro replied, brushing him off.  "You're right.  I'll talk to Hunk and see what he thinks.  So, thank you, Lance.  If you hadn't come in, I would have just stared and run, I think."

Lance hummed.  "Maybe not.  But all I did was give you a listening ear and an idea.  Time for you to run with it.  And for what it's worth?  You'll get it eventually.  Give yourself time, Shiro.  You lost so much of it, don't rush now."

Well, losing ten years was part of why Shiro should rush.

Or maybe it was habit from when everything felt like it was happening so fast.

"I'll try."

"That's all I ask."  Lance looked him over again, then reached over and ruffled Shiro's hair roughly.  "Aww, you're all messy now."

Scowling back playfully, Shiro flattened his bangs back down.  "You want me to fluff you up next?"

Lance waggled his brows.  "That an offer?"

"Wha- what does that even mean?" Shiro stared at him, then rolled his eyes.  "No, your lines haven't gotten better."

"Blasphemy!"

Shiro was laughing when he let Lance pull him out of the hanger.  Which was no doubt the point of all the silly flirting.

Still, Shiro felt much better than he had, staring at the lion.

And now he had a place to start. 

***

“How are you feeling?”

Shiro looked over at Hunk, who watched him carefully.  Then he looked down at the controls in his hands, heart pounding.

They were not the familiar black and purple handles he was used to seeing.  Instead, they were the same sunshine yellow as Hunk’s armor.

Now that he was actually inside Yellow, the whole thing seemed much more daunting than before.

Swallowing, Shiro took a deep breath.  “Fine,” he lied.  “Just not sure this is working.  I don’t really feel it.”

Hunk hummed and leaned against the side of the pilot seat.  “Not even a little?” He questioned, brows up.  “Normally when you try to connect with another lion you can at least feel that it’s there.  Do you have that?”

“No,” Shiro replied quickly, gripping the controls tight and sitting up straighter.  “Nothing at all.”

But then, Shiro wasn’t trying very hard.  In fact, whatever the opposite of trying was, that’s what he was doing.

Shiro just didn’t know how to feel about this.   The chosen pilots weren’t hard rules, weren’t lines drawn in the sand.  He had known that before he’d disappeared, since Keith’s brief moment as Black’s pilot was one of the reasons Shiro had started to make him his successor.

Shiro couldn’t be upset that they’d done exactly what he’d hoped.  And he wasn’t.  It really didn’t bother him that the others could adapt like that.

It just felt weird for Shiro himself to do it.

And he didn’t know why.

Sighing, Hunk nodded.  “Okay.  Well, that’s fine then.  We don’t have to do it.”

Shiro’s head snapped up.  He hadn’t thought he was fooling Hunk at all.  After all, Hunk tended to have good instincts for intentions, and it hadn’t exactly been the highlight of his lying career.

Hunk stared back, unbothered.  His hair was back in a thick ponytail, tied with an orange ribbon that might have been part of his original headband.  Shiro hadn’t asked what happened to that, yet.  Hunk had gained another couple of inches since Shiro’s disappearance, until Shiro came to just his eyebrows, and if anything, he seemed to have gotten more muscled.  Hunk looked like someone who could throw Shiro around and not be out of breath after.

Which, okay, Hunk had been able to do that before. Shiro knew that from training.  But it was strange to see Hunk look like it.

“Just like that?” Shiro asked carefully.

“Just like that,” Hunk confirmed.  “Shiro, the point of this isn’t to shove you into a role and make you perform the necessary tricks.  We’re trying to make you comfortable. If this doesn’t do it for you, you don’t have to do it.”

Oh.  

Everyone kept saying that, but it was such an odd concept that Shiro couldn’t hold onto it well.

“So we just stop?” He confirmed, taking his hands off Yellow’s controls.  For a moment, Shiro swore he felt something warm and solid under his palms, like a huge living creature pushing against him, but then it was gone.

Hunk nodded. “Sure, we can give up here.”

Okay, that was intentional.  The words ‘give up’ rubbed Shiro the wrong way, no matter what.

“You want to talk about it?” Hunk asked carefully.  “You look a little spooked, if you don’t mind me saying.  Like something’s weighing on you.  Obviously, but... If you want to get it out, I’ll listen.”  He paused and looked away.  “You don’t have to, obviously.  I know it’s not easy for you.  We’re not- I mean, we are the people you remember, we’re just not fully those people anymore.  I’m still that Hunk, but I’m Hunk with other stuff on top.  Ten years of stuff. Which is a lot.”

It was, but sometimes it wasn’t.  Turning in his seat, Shiro managed a smile, watching Hunk’s fingers tap out a familiar, nervous beat against Yellow’s console.  “You are the same people.  I know that, and thank you for the offer. But I don’t know that I could put it into words.  It just doesn’t feel right.  I feel like I’m- God, I feel like I’m cheating on Black.”

Hunk paused and looked at him.  Then he burst into laughter, head thrown back.  His smile stretched the pale lines of scars crossing his dark skin.  “Cheating on- oh, jeez, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.  That makes sense, it totally does, I swear I’m not laughing at you.  But- I’m sorry, you looked so sad.  Like a guilty puppy.”

Slowly, Shiro drew himself up, defensive.  “I do not.”

“You do!  Oh, man.”  Hunk wiped under his eyes with one finger, cheeks rosy with his laughter. “No, it’s not a bad thing, it’s cute.  It’s really cute.  I promise you that Black won’t be mad.  None of the lions are.  You’re not one thing forever, Shiro.  There’s the lion you’re most compatible with, and that bond is deep, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have any of the other traits.  I mean, some you might not have.  That’s how it is. You don’t have to ignore the parts of you that are more than what the Black Lion looks for.”

“That’s different from flying one of the lions, isn’t it?” Shiro pointed out carefully, his shoulders still braced up.  He resisted the urge to scowl, which he feared would only look like a pout right now.

Hunk shrugged.  “To them?  I don’t think so.  And I know there was- we had a bunch of rules based on what the previous paladins did, back in the beginning.  But we’re not them, and Allura and Coran realized that a long time ago.  What that group did and how they operated as a team is different from how we do it, and what they could do with the lions is different from what we can.  That’s the nature of the bonds.  They’re so personal, and the lions don’t have a strict user manual, anyway.  Magic and all that.”

Shiro frowned.  He was used to thinking of magic as either just a power source or something strange that Haggar could do.  Now Allura seemed to have it, which... okay, fine.  

But he didn’t like it taking away his rules.  Shiro needed those.  They kept his life in order when it felt like it was falling apart.

Shiro could really use rules right now.  Maybe they only applied to him, maybe they didn’t make any sense outside of his head, but they gave him something stable when nothing else was.

Something on his face must have given those feelings away, because Hunk sighed and nodded.  “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.  Lance and I just thought this might be an easier starting point than Black.  Yellow’s a lot less intense and there’s less baggage. But you know you don’t have to do any of this, right?  You don’t have to work with any of the lions if you don’t want to.  You can do absolutely nothing and we’d be thrilled to have you.”

“Why?” Shiro asked suddenly, the word bursting out of him unbidden.

Hunk paused and turned to look at him.  “Why what?”

Now that the question was out, Shiro took a deep breath and stared down at his lap.  All in.  No other choice.  “I understand if Keith wants me here if I’m not a paladin.  Or Matt and Comman- Sam.  And Pidge too.  But if I’m not being useful, why am I here?  What good am I doing?  I don’t understand why you’d bother.  Unless this is just being nice.”

When Shiro finally looked up, he froze in place.

Hunk looked devastated at the question.

Slowly, he knelt down in front of the pilot’s chair, until he was below Shiro’s eye line instead of above it.  “First of all, anyone is allowed here, no matter how useful they are or aren’t.  It’s a big castle and it has lots of resources.  Anyone who wants to be here just because, and who understands the risks involved... we wouldn’t turn them away.  But especially not you, Shiro.  Never you.  You’re always welcome here.  Don’t you understand what you’ve done for us?”

For a moment, Shiro’s throat was too tight to speak.  He had to take a few deep breaths before he could manage words.  “I’ve been gone for a decade,” he replied, voice small and choked.  “That’s so long compared to the time I was there for you.  You knew me for a tenth of the time I’ve been gone.  You don’t really- I’m a memory to you.  Everything else is so much bigger.  So I understand Keith, since he knew me longer, but...”

Hunk reached out, cupping Shiro’s cheek.  “That’s not true.  Shiro, that’s not true at all.  It’s been a long time, and I know that’s hard.  Everything must feeling like it’s changed, and I’m  _ so sorry _ it happened to you, that you had the rug tugged out from your feet like that.  But you were never just a blip on our radar.  Do you really not know how big an impact you had on us?”

Swallowing hard, Shiro shook his head, shoulders slumping as he admitted it.  “It was so short a time to you.”

“That doesn’t matter.  Not even a little bit.  You set the tone for our team.  What we are now is because you set up the foundations.  You were there for us.  Maybe we didn’t have time to get to know you as well as I wish we had, but you made it seem... We were scared, and we were far away from home, and we were suddenly soldiers in a real life war.  But you made it seem like we could do it.  You made us believe we could fight a ten thousand year old battle and come out victorious.  Shiro, we’re alive because of you.”  Hunk ran his thumb along the line of Shiro’s cheekbone, tears building and falling down his dark cheeks.  “So don’t you dare say you won’t be welcome here.  You have your pick of the universe, Shiro, and we’ll give it to you, okay?  Anything.”

Watching Hunk cry, and hearing all those words, Shiro felt heat build in his own eyes.  “You all did that yourselves.  I didn’t have to make you believe anything, because you could already do those things.  You were always amazing.  And you did it.  Without my help.”

“No, we didn’t.  We did it with your help.  We did it in honor of you.”  Hunk’s expression cracked, a different kind of pain showing through.  “And you’re still just as scared and confused and lost as we were.  You just pulled it together so we felt like someone knew what was happening, didn’t you?  God, Shiro, we owe you so much.  You’ve barely been free of the Galra for a year.  That’s ridiculous.  I have no idea how you’ve done it.”

Finally, Shiro’s own tears fell.  He shook his head, knocking off Hunk’s hand.  “Stop, please.  I can’t-”  The words were shaking something loose in his chest, something that gave Shiro the ability to keep his head.  It felt like if it fell away, the structure of who he presented would fall apart, and he had no idea how to rebuild from that.

“I’m sorry,” Hunk replied.  “It just kind of hit me.  We all knew you were putting on a strong face for us, but it’s weird to think you were just as young and scared as the rest of us.  You’re  _ so _ young.  You’d just graduated when you left for Kerberos, right?  Matt hadn’t even managed that.”  He took a deep breath.  “Sorry, I should know all this.  I did know all of it.  It just hadn’t really hit until now.”

All Shiro could do was nod to that and take deep breaths.  He didn’t know why he was reacting like this.  Shouldn’t he be happy he’d helped them?  Shouldn’t Shiro be glad to know they appreciated it?

But the bigger the impact he’d made on them, the worse it had been when Shiro had left.  The more they relied on him, the harder it was to deal when he’d wasn’t there for them anymore.

Shiro had dealt them such a blow, right after what should have been such a huge victory.

“Don’t apologize.  I should say I’m sorry to you.  I never meant to- I wasn’t trying to leave.  I didn’t want to leave.  I wish I could...  I want to go back.  I don’t want to have hurt you that much.  I want to undo it and make it okay, and I don’t even know how it happened.  I’m so sor-”

Shiro was cut off as Hunk grabbed him and yanked him out of his chair.  They both went crashing to the ground, Shiro half in Hunk’s lap, bundled against him.  Hunk’s arms were heavy and warm around his shoulders, holding him to his chest, as Hunk heaved with gulping sobs.  “No, don’t be sorry, you didn’t mean to.  It’s okay, Shiro, we know you didn’t want to.  We know you would never have done it on purpose, we know. You didn’t mean to.”

Being held - being rocked - finally broke him down.

Shiro grabbed onto Hunk’s shirt and sobbed.

“I want to fix it,” he told Hunk, barely aware of his own words.  “I want to go back.   _ I want to go back!” _

Hunk didn’t say anything in response, just held him and rocked, letting Shiro get it out as he finally, finally cried.

Shiro cried for their pain in losing him, for what he’d missed and never got to experience with them, for every injury he hadn’t been there to prevent or ease them through, for every triumph they’d wanted to share with him and couldn’t.

But mostly, Shiro cried for what he’d lost.  He cried for the paladins he remembered, the ones he still expected to wake up and go train and guide.  He cried for the loss of those relationships, forever, painfully changed without his permission.  He cried for the loss of his friends, even if he’d gotten versions of them back.

Shiro cried for himself, for how every time he found solid ground, it was taken away and twisted and changed, then handed back to him in a form he didn’t know how to work with.

Hunk held him through it all.

He wasn’t the only one.

Something circled them in the cockpit, like something huge pacing around them protectively.  With his eyes closed, Shiro could feel the shadow of it, and a low rumble, nearly as deep as Black’s.

The presence stayed closer to Hunk than to Shiro, but not by much.  Instead, there was a tentative reaching feeling, like making a new friend.  The sensation of feeling someone out and finding that he liked the shape of them.

Yellow was getting to know him.

Without quite meaning to, Shiro settled against Hunk’s chest, head on his shoulder and eyes closed as he tracked the feeling.  It was never physically anywhere.  Or, rather, it was always physically everywhere, since the presence was the entire room. But he got a sense of size and distance anyway, just metaphorical rather another body with them.

At first, Shiro didn’t understand why Yellow was suddenly interested.  Then he realized it wasn’t on his behalf.

Looking up, Shiro took a deep breath and wiped under his eyes, impatiently dashing away the tears.  “I think you woke Yellow.”

“You feel that?”  Hunk smiled back, not bothering to try and hide his own tear stains.  “I may have been feeling a little protective of you.  You’re our youngest now, you know.  Get used to it.”

The thought settled oddly in Shiro’s stomach.  Like Hunk had described a few minutes ago, Shiro knew that, but he hadn’t  _ known _ it.

He was younger than all of them.

So strange.

But having someone be protective of him wasn’t a bad feeling, either.  Especially with Yellow there, steady around them.  It was like having a blanket over their hug, a second, warm weight joining them.

Yellow might have been feeling a little protective, too.

A smile tugged at the very corners of Shiro’s mouth.  If anything, crying it out may have helped some.  It didn’t feel like the emotions were a heavy steel ball lodged in his chest anymore.  So he closed his eyes and he reached out, the same way he hadn’t in the cockpit.

Yellow met him halfway, immediate and eager.

As soon as he made the connection, Shiro concentrated on his own protectiveness.  He thought of the other paladins, and how determined he was to see them through their battles.  He thought of the moment in Blue, hovering in front of a wormhole and suddenly finding himself  _ in charge _ of them all, and making a decision to follow through with it after.  He thought of nights spent worried for them, days spent training them, hours spent pouring over every resource they had to try and figure out how to get them all through the next fight.

Shiro thought of himself being led away from Matt, who was still on the ground and terrified, then digging his heels into the dirt as he faced down an armed alien many times his size.  He thought of the few fights he could remember, taking a deep breath and pushing on to protect his own life, just as worth saving as any other.

Shiro was not the Yellow Paladin.  This was not his perfect match, would never be the lion he could ride to the end.

But that didn’t make it a bad match, either.  It didn’t mean there wasn’t resonance between them.

“You there?” Hunk asked, his breath sending Shiro’s bangs fluttering.  “Have you got it?”

Shiro smiled. “I think so.”  Slowly he stood, eyes still closed, and he offered Hunk his hand.  It was a different feeling than being connected to Black.  Shiro had felt centered in those moments, like he could see the whole lay of the land drawn out behind his eyes.  This was like having steel run through him.  He felt heavier, but also stronger.  

Taking Shiro’s hand, Hunk pulled himself up.  “Show me.”

Shiro beamed back, no longer concerned that his face was probably a mess and he’d just been sobbing his heart out in front of Hunk.  There were worse things than vulnerability.  In its own way, it was a strength.  “Okay.”

He sat down and put his hands on the controls, and Yellow thrummed under him.

A long way away, Shiro felt something else shift and move.  It wasn’t an objection, but there was a sense of awareness.

Shiro paused, worried.  Was Black upset at the change?  Was he cheating after all?

But rather than anger, there was only a mild annoyance, and Shiro could have sworn something collided with the center of his back, like being headbutted from behind.  It was an impatient, sulky move.

Shiro was allowed to do this, but Black wanted him back after, like a child sharing their toys.

From another being, Shiro would have hated that feeling.  But from their lions, he was just glad to know he was wanted.

That settled, Shiro leaned back in the seat, and the screens flashed on ahead of him, matching the information being fed straight into his mind.

“Let’s see what you can do, Yellow,” Shiro called, and he grinned.

No matter what year it was, no matter when, one thing was always true.

Shiro could  _ fly. _

So he did.


	3. Chapter 3

Exhilaration carried Shiro through the rest of the day and into the next.  The last week and a half was the longest he’d gone without flying a lion since they first became paladins.  Shiro had known he’d missed it, but he hadn’t realized how much.

It wasn’t just the flying, either, though Shiro enjoyed that.  It was that feeling of bonding.  He’d pulled back emotionally from the Black Lion out of fear, and spending a couple of hours with Yellow reminded him of how  _ right _ it felt to be with the lions.

Shiro knew himself well enough to know this wouldn’t last forever, and the anxiety would come pouring back in through the cracks, slowly drowning the fun back into nerves and doubts.

Which meant Shiro was going to act first.

Hearing Pidge and Allura’s voices, Shiro turned sharply and followed them down the hall to the rec room.  He found them both sitting on the floor, with all four mice snuggled in their laps - Chulatt on Pidge’s thigh, and the other three draped over Allura.

“Good afternoon,” Shiro greeted, knocking on the doorframe.  “Am I interrupting?”

Glancing over, Allura offered him a smile.  “Not at all.  Come sit.”

Shiro stepped over and sat down cross legged.  Without missing a beat, Allura scooped up Chuchule in her hands and offered the mouse to him, still smiling.  The mouse didn’t do more than shift in their sleep.

It was cute enough that Shiro couldn’t help a returning smile.  He held out his hands, and Allura dropped Chuchule into his palm.

Up close, he could see that the mice weren’t just sleepier than they had been a decade ago.  Grey streaked through the pink fur, until they seemed to be a lighter color.  They were also heavier than they’d been, if only slightly, and Shiro thought there was a bit more fluff to them.

The mice were much older.  

It only now occurred to Shiro that they probably didn’t have very long lifespans.  Altean mice must have a longer lifespan than their Earth counterparts, but it was running out.

Gently settling Chuchule down on his leg, Shiro ran a gentle finger down their back, all too aware of his strength and the fragility of this animal.  “Guess they’re less active these days, huh?”

Pidge pushed up her visor, making her bangs stick up oddly.  Her gaze was sympathetic, no doubt knowing exactly what he was thinking.  “Yup.  That’s what we were talking about, actually.”

“I’m going to change their diet a little,” Allura agreed gently, petting over Plachu’s ears.  “Help them keep their weight down.  It’s hard enough for them to move now.  Pidge was helping me come up with other solutions.”

Nodding, Pidge leaned back on her palms.  “I was thinking- you know how they have lessons in pools for older people and someone in physical therapy?  The regular pool is hard for them to get to and way too deep now that they can’t move as well, but I was thinking I could make them a little one.”

“A mousey pool,” Shiro replied, lips quirked up.  “It sounds painfully adorable.”

Allura’s eyes brightened.  “Yes.  Yes it does.  I’m quite excited for the idea.  Pidge was going to measure them and figure out a good depth where they could swim but it wouldn’t be dangerous if they got tired.  We got a little distracted.”

“I’m sure the mice appreciate it,” Shiro replied.  “They look comfortable.”

Laughing, Allura nodded.  “Oh, they are.  They love being carted around and snuggled.  All the better that they can’t get into hijinks so much anymore.”

Glancing over, Shiro’s gaze softened.  “All the same, no one really minded the hijinks.”

There was a hint of moisture to Allura’s eyes, but she continued to smile. “You didn’t see it when Chulatt and Platt got into Lance’s face cream.”

Shiro clapped the hand that wasn’t petting a mouse over his mouth.  “Oh no.  They must have smelled like old Nunvill for a week.”

“Longer,” Pidge replied, outright grinning.  “And they were both stained green for just as long, no matter how many baths we gave them.  Allura covered them in perfume to try and hide it.”

Allura sighed.  “Just made it worse.”  She rubbed at one eye, making it look like scratching an itch.  Shiro looked away respectfully, letting her think she’d fooled him.  “They are little rascals.”

Idly tracing the length of the long tail, Shiro took a deep breath.  “It’s hard, but it’s also nice seeing them get older, I think.  We had a dog when I was growing up and he died.... Well, even longer ago now.  When I was a boy.  Old age took him in the end and he passed in his sleep.  But he was such a sweet dog, and in the later years it was like he never wanted to stop sleeping in your lap.”

“Very familiar,” Allura replied, her voice slightly rough.  “It is nice to have them so eager to cuddle.  I just wish-”  She suddenly cut herself off and took a deep breath.

Heart clenching, Shiro moved slightly closer, head tilted in offer.

After a moment, Allura leaned sideways.  Their shoulders just barely brushed, but it was enough.

Once they were settled, Pidge moved closer as well, taking one of Allura’s hands in both of hers and squeezing.  Allura squeezed back just as hard.

Silence held, then Allura sighed.  “It’s unfortunate.  We have their DNA saved, but...”

“None of them are...”  Shiro paused, not sure if gender or human sex characteristics applied to Altean mice.

“They can’t breed.  Not with each other,” Allura confirmed.  “These are the last Altean mice that will ever be.”

Shiro’s hand suddenly stilled above Chuchule’s fur.

The very last of their species, fragile with age.  Sleeping on his thigh, with Shiro’s Galra-made arm against their back.

It was a terrifying thought.

It felt like something Shiro should respond to, but what was there to say?  There were no words of comfort that he hadn’t already given, nothing to soften the blow that this last piece of Altea was dying away.

In the end, all Shiro did was press closer, and Allura matched his pressure.

Life was fleeting.

Time pressed on.

All lessons that Shiro had learned already, but stung all the same.

He’d rather it hurt, though.  The day these changes stopped bothering him was the day Shiro became someone else, someone closer to Zarkon.

So Shiro didn’t let the tears fall, but he let the pain and sadness wash over him anyway.

Eventually, Pidge took a deep breath.  “I should input these measurements soon.  You giving Matt’s idea any more thought?”

That startled a small, choked laugh out of Allura.  “Tell him to give it a while yet.”

“What’s Matt’s idea?” Shiro asked, looking over Allura to see Pidge better.

“Little mouse sized hovering wheelchairs.”

The answer was so absurd and so  _ Matt _ that Shiro could only laugh.  “Of course it is.  He wants to have races, doesn’t he?”

Pidge smirked.  “That was Lance’s contribution.”

Shaking his head, Shiro sighed.  “It would be.”

Pidge picked Chulatt off of her lap and handed them to Allura, then paused.  “Oh, Shiro, did you want something?”

“Nothing that needs to be done right this moment,” Shiro replied.  “Maybe tomorrow, if there’s a chance.”

Pulling herself up, Allura glanced at him.  “What would this non-necessary thing be?”

Shiro offered a sheepish smile.  “I was going to try with the Black Lion again.  And I was wondering if the both of you would monitor?  Pidge can handle the tech side, and you can...”  He trailed off, head tilted.  “Monitor the magic?  Forgive me, Princess, I don’t really understand how that side works, or your abilities.  The bulk of my experience with all that is from Haggar.”

Sighing, Allura nodded.  “Who wasn’t exactly explaining her method, I assume.  Yes, I’d be happy to do that for you.  This evening would work fine for me.  Pidge?”

“Yeah, works for me too.”  Pidge glanced over his face, and Shiro winced at the look.  It was the direct, inquisitive look he was used to her using on robotics, but not on him.  The other paladins mostly left Shiro to his own devices, so long as he socialized with them enough.

In hindsight, he’d taken advantage of that.  Shamelessly, honestly.

But all Pidge did was reach up and ruffle his hair. Shiro yelped and pulled away, making Chuchule grumble unhappily at the way they were suddenly rocked.

“We’re proud of you,” Pidge told him, smiling like a sharp.  “Our littlest paladin.”

Shiro’s mouth fell open in outrage.  “I never called you that!  Why am I getting this?”

“Because you’re our small one,” Pidge replied, cooing sarcastically now.  “We’ve got to protect you.”

Okay, that one was a fair catch.  Shiro scowled, feeling his ears go red from embarrassment.  “I object to this treatment.”

“Tough,” Pidge replied, snorting at him.  “Anyway, yes.  After dinner okay?”

That was just a few hours away.  Shiro’s stomach turned nervously, but he made him nod and keep his face calm.  “That’s great, thank you.  I appreciate you both doing this.”

Allura patted his shoulder.  “Don’t be ridiculous.  It’s our pleasure to help you feel comfortable again, in whatever capacity you like.  And having a fifth paladin again will only be helpful.”

A thought occurred, and Shiro looked over at Allura.  “I don’t mean to oust you, either.”

Startling, Allura looked at him, then burst into chuckles.  “Oh, no!  You’re not at all.  I’m comfortable with most of the lions, so if need be, I can always step in.  It’s not a complete separation.  But none of you can fly the ship, and it’s an incredible hassle logistically to do both.  Coran, Matt and Sam can manage with the stored power for one jump, but outside of that I’m absolutely required.  No, this is better.”

Shiro relaxed slightly.  That sounded nice, and he could understand, but he hoped he wasn’t just accepting a line.  She sounded honest, but Allura was more that capable of seeming one way and feeling another.

But all Shiro could do was trust her.  And she seemed to trust him, even after all these years.  After all, she’d just been very vulnerable in front of him and Pidge.  It was a brave act, to open up that much.

Shiro was familiar with the terror of it.  He’d been doing the same for the past couple of days.

“If the mood strikes you, and Black is comfortable with the arrangement, I don’t mind sharing the title with you, Princess,” Shiro offered.  “After all, I imagine you have more experience with the bayard.”

“True,” Allura replied.  “Thank you, Shiro.  We’ll decide when you know what you want.  How’s that?”

Acceptable.  Shiro liked the idea of talking it out and showing their cards.  It would make him feel better about the process.  “Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Allura replied easily.  “Are you done with Chuchule?”

Scooping the mouse up as gently as possible, Shiro returned the gesture, handing the mouse over.  They opened their eyes and stretched, sitting in Allura’s palm instead of lying, and eagerly accepted a position on her shoulders.

“I’ll see you at dinner, then.” Shiro replied, standing.  Having a couple of hours to himself to process sounded like a good idea.  He’d had a lot to think about in the last twenty minutes or so, and he’d like to be settled before seeing everyone.

Allura nodded to them both.  “Have a good afternoon.”

Pidge opened the door and used her arm to hold it open for him, gesturing dramatically like a gentleman helping a lady.  Shiro rolled his eyes because it was the reaction she wanted, but he smiled through it.  When she stepped out after him, she ruffled his hair again.

“Okay, what’s with this?”  Shiro asked, shaking his head so his hair would settle back into place.

Grinning, Pidge smiled.  “It’s fun.  You put so much effort into keeping it that style, so it’s fun to mess with.”

Oh, jeez.  Save him from Holt siblings.

“Thanks,” Shiro replied, tone utterly flat.

“You seem to like it when Lance does it,” Pidge shot back.  “Or is it a Lance thing?”

Her tone was utterly neutral, but that was damning in and of itself.  Huffing, Shiro eyed her.  “Why would it be a Lance thing?”

“You tell me.”

Shiro frowned at her, then rolled her eyes.  “Do what you want, Pidge.”

She snickered. “My favorite words.  Alright, you flee.  I’ll see you in a few.  I’m a busy lady, you know.”

“I’m sure.  So many people to tease.”  That only made her laugh, so Shiro waved and headed down the hall before she could give it another shot.

When he got to his room, Shiro laid back on his bed and looked up at the palms of his hands.

On one, he could still feel the warm brush of Chuchule’s fur.

Life was fleeting and fragile, and so easy to ruin.

Clenching his fists, Shiro took a deep breath and looked away.

He’d known that already.  Had known it when they were captured, and Shiro looked at Myzax and thought  _ this is it. _

But he hadn’t thought about the finality of it to others, not really.  Had known they’d be sad at his loss, had been all too aware of how much his disappearance had hurt the others.

The mice were something unique.  They were the only four Altean mice left.  Precious and small and gone forever, soon.

Irreplaceable.

Finite.

Shiro closed his eyes and ignored the tears at the back of his eyes.

***

Shiro stared at the Black Lion.

The Black Lion stared back, the same as ever.  Huge, looming, powerful,  _ welcoming. _  Shiro always felt like a child here, helpless in a strangely good way.  He wasn’t the strong one here, but he didn’t need to.  He was the Black Lion’s, and he was protected.

Except Shiro was terrified anyway.  Because that protection had been turned against him, made into one of the most terrifying and painful things he’d gone through.  It had uprooted him in a way the Galra hadn’t managed to, not really.

Shiro had been gone for a year, and things changed, but not that drastically.  Keith’s hair grew out slightly.  The couch in the shack had been more run down.  The staff of the Garrison didn’t trust him anymore.  Painful in their own way, but not a painful shock.

The people who had been Shiro’s friends were gone except in echoes.  The people in their place were ones that loved Shiro and helped him, accepted him with open arms.  They weren’t quite strangers, not really, but close enough that Shiro could look at them and not recognize them anymore.  

Shiro had been pulled from a world he was just beginning to understand and thrown into a stranger version of it, where all that knowledge was inadequate.  Where it was outdated to the point of absurdity.  Where he was last, now, and everything that had been made a reluctant blessing, like his ability to fight, wasn’t enough anymore.

The Black Lion had done that to him.

And now he was going back.

Pidge looked up from her projected computer screens, all of which showed various real-time graphs and readings.  Shiro hadn’t known how many things there were to monitor about the lions until he’d watched her carefully set up each one around her.

On the other hand, Allura seemed to have an easier time.  She sat down on the little desk in the corner, smoothed out her skirt, and closed her eyes.  After a few moments she’d told Shiro she was all set.

Magic.  Shiro didn’t understand it, and he wasn’t in a hurry to.

“You okay?” Pidge asked carefully, looking him over.  “You don’t have to do this now.”

Except Shiro did.

If he didn’t do it, if he kept giving himself permission to run away, if he let the anxiety settle into his bones, Shiro wasn’t sure he’d ever manage.

It was this or giving up being a paladin.  Shiro had to believe that, or else he’d never have the courage to take the next step.

“I’m okay,” he replied, taking a deep breath.  It helped to have people here, too.  Maybe this wasn’t the Pidge and Allura he’d left but he still hated to disappoint them.

Having someone to watch helped.  Like with Lance, someone to see that he was letting fear take hold.  They wouldn’t judge him, but they’d known he’d come here, that he’d planned on stepping into Black, and that he’d failed.

Shiro hated to fail, and he hated people seeing him being weak.

So success was the only option.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Allura replied, head held high and body language regal.  She didn’t react to his nerves, just like he hadn’t reacted to her wiping away tears.

There were a lot of things Shiro understood and appreciated about Allura, tiny chains of empathy that let them work together in a co-leadership position before.  This was one of them.

Shiro nodded to them both.  Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and stepped forward.  This was no less dangerous than stepping into the  _ Daedalus  _ to fly to Kerberos in a historic, long distance mission.  It was no less dangerous than each time he’d stepped into the ring.

Shiro had overcome worse.

(None of those times felt so personal, though.)

(He’d survived all the same, and he would survive this.)

As soon as his foot touched the ramp again, the Black Lion ducked down, and the mouth hatch opened.

Welcoming.

Sinister.

Dangerous.

Warm.

The contrasting emotions roiled and Shiro’s stomach flipped on itself in protest, but he swallowed hard and kept walking up the ramp.

The hatch closed.  

Shiro panicked.

Immediately, he flinched and tensed up, arms over his face like he was trying to protect himself from a blow.  There was none to be had, but Shiro stayed tense, nearly shaking from it.  He waited for the press of the Black Lion, the lightweight not-real sensation of the astral plane, the knowledge that he was gone, it was all gone, he couldn’t hold onto anything he could  _ do _ this anymore please  _ no more. _

But none of that happened.

It took several minutes, and Shiro felt dizzy and sick.  It took him a moment to realize that was because of how hard he’d been breathing.  Hyperventilating.  

He could feel the Black Lion, but pulled back.  Not distant, because there was no way to be distant inside Black, but as far away as possible.

Giving him space.

Worried.

Shame ran through Shiro as he wiped his eyes.  “I’m sorry,” he told the empty room, slowly pushing himself back up to his feet.  “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me.  But it hurt.”

The words were small and simple.  Childish, even.

Immediately, there was a brush of something, of nothing but air, of something utterly intangible.  It pressed Shiro forward with a touch as delicate as a breeze.

Shiro swallowed hard and obeyed, walking up the ramp to the cockpit.

The panic welled again, making Shiro swallow.  He already ached from how tense he’d been for so long.  He didn’t want to have another moment like that so soon.

At the thought, the presence backed off, waiting.  Hopeful.

Shiro’s heart ached for the lion.  Their bond had stretched like this before, but never in such a guilty way.  It was always Shiro proving himself to Black, not the other way around.  Because that was  _ absurd. _  The Black Lion was huge and powerful and had lived centuries longer than Shiro.  Black, who had been so hurt by the last Black Paladin.  Of course Shiro was proving himself.

Except this time it was the Black Lion who had done the hurting.

Shiro had been terrified, but it only now occurred to him that maybe the Black Lion was scared too.  Maybe that’s why Black had nudged him in Yellow, sulky and jealous.

Black was afraid he’d leave.

Suddenly, sitting in that chair didn’t seem so impossible.  So Shiro took a deep breath and settled into place.

Immediately, the cockpit lit up around him, almost celebratory.  The screens brightened and began to show data and footage.  Shrio could see Pidge and Allura both sitting outside, waiting for him.  Pidge’s fingers were a blur on her keyboard, while Allura stayed nearly completely still, like she was listening very hard.

They were still watching.  They were making sure Shiro stayed safe.

Some of the tension bled away again.

Then there was the touch again, just as tentative and light as before.  It ruffled Shiro’s hair, not the playful press that both Pidge and Lance had used, but like the wind.  A gentle brush.

_ Can I? _

It wasn’t words, just emotions.  Impressions.  

Shiro’s stomach twisted, but it was always easier for him to be brave for someone else.  And he wanted so badly to be brave today.  So he nodded.  “Yes.”

They connected.

_ Hurt so sorry hurting my Paladin my former Paladin hurt had to protect keep safe love no hurt but hurt so sorry so very sorry- _

Shiro jerked his head back, astonished and startled by the sudden outpouring of feeling from the lion.  Panic rose up in him again like boiling water, spilling over until he curled up on himself in the chair.

The screens disappeared, then turned into one huge display, showing Allura and Pidge. Watching.  Neither of them looked alarmed.  

Everything was still okay.  They’d keep him safe.  They’d know if something was wrong.

Shiro’s shoulders relaxed all at once, so suddenly it hurt.

He was okay.

“Can we try that slower this time?” He asked.

There was a pause, like he’d caught Black off guard.  Then it happened again.

_ The final battle.  Zarkon felled by the Blazing Sword, defeated.  Killed.  Gone.  No longer a threat. _

_ Fragile.  A lion would never die from such a thing.  A lion would not age, would not break, would not fall into sickening dark magics like the former Black Paladin had. _

_ Fleeting. _

_ That would happen to all Paladins.  They all fell. _

_ It was something the Black Lion knew, but not something felt.  The only other had just now fallen on his own sword.  The raw wound of betrayal was joined by another. _

_ Loss.  Permanent loss.  That Paladin would never return.  There would be no other like it. _

_ Just as there was no other like this one. _

_ The current Paladin who would someday also die.  Who was wounded before, when they’d both been still and dark, who came back injured and scared so regularly. _

_ Shiro would come back, but not every time, just as Zarkon would not come back from this.  All organic matter could not survive forever, even when fed on Quintessence.  Ten thousand years was long for organic creatures, so very long.  But so small to the Black Lion, whose creation had not been their birth. _

_ Pained and protective, the Black Lion wrapped around their Paladin.  The astral plane was safe now, would keep him protected without Zarkon there to hurt and disturb. _

_ Then he  _ slipped.

_ It was only for a moment.  For a being like the Black Lion, ten years was no time at all.  It was a blink, a distracted moment. _

_ For humans, it was so very long. _

_ ‘I’m sorry.’ _

Shiro came back to himself, gasping and curling up tighter.

It had been on purpose and not.  It had been a mistake, a moment of pained grief.  It had been done out of love.

Yet it hurt him so much.

_ Fleeting small tiny warm fragile loved do not leave me stay safe please you are unique. _

Why did that sound familiar?

Shiro froze, then burst out laughing.

It was the same way he’d been thinking about the mice just a few hours ago.

Maybe it should have been insulting, but Shiro found himself simply amused.  Of course that was how the lions saw them.  Their lives were so short and precious, and they were helpful but ultimately only a short, if loved, part of their lives.

Life was too short to spend it being coddled and tucked away to avoid being hurt.

It was also too short to spend it being scared.

“I forgive you,” Shiro told Black, sitting up straight in the chair.  “You didn’t mean to hurt me.  You meant well.  You made a mistake, but I forgive you.”

Immediately, there was a press against his cheek and jaw, not unlike a cat butting and nuzzling against his head.  Automatically, Shiro reached up to touch, but his fingers went through pure air.

So instead, Shiro put his hands on the controls.  The engines roared to eager life at the gentle touch.  Pidge and Allura both looked up, startled, so Shiro spoke and knew the Black Lion would project his voice.  “I’m okay.  I think Black and I are going to go for a quick flight.”  He smiled.  “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Allura hopped off the desk and smiled, her hands folded in front of her.  “Congratulations.”

“Are you back, then?” Pidge asked, banishing the floating screens with a distracted wave of her hand.

Considering, Shiro smiled.  “Maybe.  I’ll let you know soon.  For now?  I’m just going to fly.”

Pidge grinned back warmly.  “I expect a show.  Hunk got one in Yellow.”

“I think I can do that.”

The Black Lion purred in agreement.

Maybe Shiro would be a paladin again.  He wanted to, but there was a lot to think about.  Maybe he’d take Coran or Keith up on their offers and do something else.

But this?  Shiro would always be bonded to Black, until the day he died.

But that wasn’t today, and it probably wasn’t tomorrow.

Life was short, but not too short for a joy ride.

“Let’s go.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see more, check out [my tumblr](bosstoaster.tumblr.com/)


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